


Meditations

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Blindness, M/M, Meditation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: There are so many stories of Baze watching Chirrut train and meditate. It's Chirrut's turn.





	

It’s too early. Chirrut has never quite understood why morning is held in such high esteem by his fellow spiritualists. His soul feels plenty fulfilled by long nights on a high temple balcony, soaking in equal parts crisp, cool air, and deep-voiced descriptions of imagined patterns in the stars, best followed up with late, lazy mornings. There’s no point trying to sell the elders on the spiritual value of this routine, but he has at least halfway-convinced Baze, and that’s the only opinion that matters anyway. The other man can’t resist their peaceful evenings together, but he’s always up before dawn anyway, dragging himself up dutifully for morning meditation, keeping his body and mind in fighting shape. Chirrut is sure Baze would quote texts to him, chide him for a lack of devotion. And Chirrut would cheerfully remind him that he could still kick his ass, blind and unarmed and well-rested.

Perhaps it’s fitting revenge then that Baze’s weight lifting from their bed shakes Chirrut awake. Chirrut can’t see, of course, but he has no regrets about how he perceives Baze, and as annoyed as he is to be awakened, stealthily observing the other has its benefits. He leans into the still-warm pillow the other just vacated, breathing deeply, feeling his presence strongly even in the negative space he left behind. He hears him stretch, the soft sounds of clothes rustling, joints surely still aching from yesterday’s sparring cracking a little, a deep inhale and exhale. There’s tiredness, heaviness in his muscles that Chirrut can feel–not a sense he can explain, but some combination of vibrations in the air, ripples in the Force, and the inexplicable but undeniable bond between the two of them.

Baze sits down near the foot of the bed, crossing his legs, and Chirrut feels him relax, start to clear his mind. He feels his shape, too, the way the morning air streaming through the window streams around broad shoulders, the weight of him as he lowers himself to the stone floor. Such strength in that frame. Chirrut might feel a little guilty at admiring him surreptitiously like this if he weren’t so positive that Baze did the same to him often enough, and with the unfair advantage of sight, at that. Not entirely concerned about being caught, and feeling a little more _lively_ now despite the hour, Chirrut sits up and leans back against the wall. Baze’s thoughts are beautifully clear, his energy strong. Perhaps there is something to this early morning ritual. Attuned senses or not, Chirrut can’t get quite enough information at this distance, he decides, and shifts toward the foot of the bed to sit close behind him. He can feel the other’s thoughts stir, refocus onto him, but the Force around him remains bright and peaceful.

He already knows Baze is shirtless before he touches him; he could claim, truthfully, that he can hear the difference, or feel the heat from his skin differently, but the simpler answer is that it was the norm for him in the mornings. Still, it can’t hurt to confirm, and he reaches out to rest both hands on his shoulders. The energy around him shifts again and it makes Chirrut smile to feel it grow warm and wrap around him as the other leans back against him. “If you’re awake anyway, why not meditate with me?” His voice, faux-annoyance notwithstanding, is extra gruff in the morning, and it sends goosebumps up across Chirrut’s skin–a slightly different sort of energy than a ripple in the Force.

“I like watching you.”

Baze chuckles and pushes himself back up to sit on the bed next to him, Chirrut’s hands shamelessly admiring the muscles in his arms as he moves. “Watching me? Did you wake up with new eyes today?”

“No. Useless as ever.” A sly grin crosses his face. “I watch you with everything else.”

Baze snorts faintly but by now Chirrut has one hand on his face and can feel him flush despite his best efforts at apathy. The other hand is still sliding up and down his arm, slowly as if memorizing every contour, though Baze is fairly certain Chirrut already has him well committed to memory. If he didn’t know so well, he wouldn’t be giving him that cheeky grin he adores more than he knows how to say. “Don’t you know what I look like by now?”

"You know what I look like, don’t you?” He leans closer. For a man who’s never seen his own face, Baze thinks, he seems keenly aware of how attractive he is. “That doesn’t mean you stop looking at me.”

“So philosophical this morning.” He manages, somehow, to simply kiss the corner of his lips and pull away, perhaps more of a testament to his strength than the lines of muscle Chirrut is tracing with curious fingers across his chest and down his abdomen. The touch quickens his pulse though, warms his skin, and Chirrut doesn’t miss a detail.

**Author's Note:**

> I've filed this under Teen and Up as it is not explicit but I'm honestly not sure - please tell me if you feel this is inappropriately rated!


End file.
